


Must Love Dogs

by sheron



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dogs, Fluff, Inspired by Art, Light Angst, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21589186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheron/pseuds/sheron
Summary: Tony keeps away from dogs — he has his reasons. At least until he (literally) runs into Steve walking his puppy.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 28
Kudos: 326





	Must Love Dogs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cachette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cachette/gifts).
  * Inspired by [101 [Art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19445902) by [Cachette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cachette/pseuds/Cachette). 



> This started out as a remix of Cachette's wonderful [art](https://acachette.tumblr.com/post/183293103335/101-dalmatians-style-meet-cute-au-i-originally), the 101 Dalmatians style meet cute AU, and sort of went its own way, as these things do. Mostly this is unrepentant fluff, but please note that there's a brief mention of animal cruelty that happens in the past and off-screen, just in case it's a deal breaker for you. The title is from an eponymous movie. Thanks to janonny for looking this over for me on very short notice.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story!

"What is _that_!" Tony exclaimed at seeing Pepper with her afghan hound in his workshop doorway.

Pepper put the hand that wasn't holding the dog's leash on her hip, and frowned at him. "Are you going to be difficult?" Her jaw set. The dog turned to Tony and barked once and wagged her curled tail with diabolical joy.

"Am _I_ —?" Tony put a hand to his heart and pretended the hairs on the back of his neck weren't standing up. "You know how I feel about dogs."

The battle-hardened edge faded from Pepper's eyes a little. "I know. Honestly, I wouldn't do this to you, but the dog-sitter is running late and I need to be on the plane to L.A. in"— she looked at the elegant rose-gold watch on her wrist —"fourty minutes, so Happy will already have to perform miracles with traffic."

"Then leave Fifi with your assistant." Tony turned to his work, attempting to ignore her. It didn't work. His amygdala was going haywire sounding the proximity alarm: _dogdogdog_. He had legitimate trauma!

Pepper was relentless. "You know she gets nervous around strangers."

"I told you not to bring her around! _I_ could be a stranger then."

"But you're not, Tony." Pepper looked at him with wide guiles-eyes. "She likes you."

"This is entrapment—"

"Oh please." An eye-roll and Pepper started to tie the leash to one of the huge blue oxygen tanks by the wall, that was there for Reasons. "She'll just sit over here, won't you, darling." Patting the dog's head made Fifi squint her eyes in pleasure, butting her long nose into Pepper's hand, and no doubt leaving slobber all over. Tony shuddered. 

"Oh, I see. She gets 'darling' and I get—"

"Tony!"

"Exactly."

Pepper looked at him, exasperated. "I promise you it won't be more than a half hour you have to watch her. Not even watch; just keep her company. You don't have to do anything, and you'd be doing me this huge favour." Wide and guileless blues again; he was such a sucker for them. "Natasha's usually spot on when I book her, but she had a family emergency. I gave her your number to call when she's coming up to take Fifi."

Sensing defeat, Tony switched tracks, leaning back in his chair, tapping a pen against his lip. "Well, what's in it for me?"

A sharp lift of a perfect eyebrow. "Remember how you owe me for those pictures that I made go away—"

Tony sat up straight. "Aren't you late for your plane?" 

Sweetly, "I knew you'd agree." 

Pepper bent to kiss the dog's forehead, inducing Tony into the biggest eye-roll from all the way back behind his work table. She turned to leave, fingers rubbing the forehead spot on Fifi's head. "Be good."

"She can't speak English," Tony called after her.

"I wasn't talking to her."

The door shut on the clacker of her high heels, and then Tony was alone in his workshop _with a dog_.

Fifi whined and wagged her tail with vigor, looking at Tony with excited brown eyes that said: _food_. Or possibly: _play? Play now?_

He put his face in his hands and groaned.  


* * *

The dog-sitter Natasha texted him thirty minutes later.

_Still at the hospital. So sorry._

Tony stared at the text. Not even he was dense enough to answer that what he was thinking: when are you picking up this dog?

 _Okay,_ he texted back, like an awesome human being that he was. _Message when you can pick her up._

Then he dropped the phone on the desk with a clatter. Fifi lifted her head from her paws and whined. She probably needed a walk. Tony dreaded the inevitable. He'd spent the last fifteen minutes alternatively doing deep breathing exercises to ward off the panicky thoughts and looking up other reputable dog sitters who could take over in case Natasha's hospital stay got extended.

Tony just...he couldn't do this. He glanced at Fifi. She barked at him.

Tony could feel his pulse jump. "Stop it," he growled.

Fifi barked again, louder this time, his anxiety sparking off her own.

Tony put his face in his hands and lowered his head to the desk in front of him.

Twenty years ago he'd have been excited at the prospect of dog watching. Hell, he'd begged and pleaded Howard to get him a dog for long enough that his father had finally relented. A big Doberman, a man's dog, not one of those sissy poodles. Tony hadn't cared; he had only thought about playing, and petting, and running and having the best friend in the whole wide world. He had to leave Max behind whenever he went off to boarding school, but in the summers they were inseparable. At least for a while, until Obie took an interest in the wonderful workings of Tony's mind. Tony was still paying for therapy from that experience.

He'd trusted Obie, maybe even more than he'd trusted his own father. Obie always had a kind word for him, an encouragement to keep applying himself. Max had got in the way of that, evidently, and Obie had his ways of solving problems. 

Sighing, Tony ran his fingers down to his chest where, hidden behind the t-shirt, the scars from Max's claw marks had healed, even if his heart would never heal completely. He rubbed the little puckered edges now and tried to put aside the thought of what Obie had to have done to friendly, lovable Max to get him to that edge.

Even looking at Fifi now filled Tony with low-key terror. He was going to screw this up. Neither Howard nor Obie were around to "protect" Tony anymore, but he didn't have much trust in himself either. Just look at him now...trembling and shaking because of being near a dog. _Pathetic_.

Resolute, he got to his feet and looked at Fifi. He couldn't keep her couped up due to his own neuroses. It took some deep breathing exercises to approach her where she sat, watching him with more patience than he deserved, but Tony managed relatively steady hands as he untied the leash and wrapped it around his hand, in a firm grip. "Aha!" he crowed quietly, so as not to startle her. Baby steps.

Tony didn't meet anyone's eyes as he walked out of the Tower, trusting his shades to keep his face hidden from prying eyes. Besides, nobody would expect Tony Stark in the presence of a dog. His "dislike" of dogs was after all well documented. The most obvious sign of stress Tony allowed himself to exhibit was a tight clench on Fifi's leash. It wouldn't do to lose the dog in the City. But his anxieties about being yanked off his feet by his four-legged companion failed to materialize. Being that she was Pepper's dog, Fifi was of course well trained and walked calmly at his side, only sniffing the occasional fire hydrant or lamp post. Tony let her do her thing as long as he could keep his distance and not get involved.

Thus, anonymous, and burying his head in his phone like his sanity depended on it, Tony navigated the New York sidewalks all the way to the Central park, and down one of the more secluded paths there. Where due to his distraction he promptly ran into a man taller than him, causing the man to drop all the journals he was carrying.

"Oh sheesh, are you okay?" The man grabbed his elbow to help Tony keep his balance. Tony barely managed to stop his sunglasses from falling off, before pushing them up to the top of his head and meeting the man's eyes. The guy was a bit taller than Tony, blond with the prettiest blue eyes, and a slight smudge of yellow paint right under his chiseled jaw that had apparently gone unnoticed. His brow was creased with sincere concern; his face was open. Tony was only conscious of that for a moment, the universe freezing as if they were caught in a still-frame, before reality reasserted itself. 

The stranger was also securely fastened to Tony at the knees, with what looked like two dog leashes, only one of which ended in Tony's hand. When Tony examined the predicament they found themselves in, he realized the man had a black dog with him, a breed with distinctive looks that Tony had no trouble placing when it already came up to his knee as a puppy. 

"You know they grow up to weigh 150 pounds, right?" Newfoundland dogs were cute as hell though, Tony had to admit. He'd always had a weakness for a large animal. 

Meanwhile the two dogs were happily sniffing each other's butts over on the park-lawn grass next to their feet. Fifi and the black puppy had somehow managed to circle the two of them with their leashes. But did they look remotely remorseful about it? No, they did not.

The blond hunk was frowning at him. Tony wiggled a little so that he could get a foot out of the bind of the leashes he'd suddenly found himself in, while also keeping track of the sunglasses that threatened to fall off his head. 

"Jeez," the blond said, when Tony finally extracted himself and stepped away — though not too far away. He allowed the helpful hand on his elbow to linger and side-eyed pleasantly surprising arms connected to that hand, noting the outline of muscle even through a frankly forgettable blue coat. His eyes slid over to the man's chest.

"Oh, hi there,"— Tony glanced down at the name tag on the lanyard —"Steve." He beamed at him. And watched recognition strike Steve like a pole-axe.

"Oh," Steve said, plainly with full awareness of who he was talking to now. The words _TONY STARK!_ might as well have been written on his face. His fingers disengaged from Tony's elbow as if burned. 

Tony's smile turned sardonic. He shrugged for no reason; it wasn't as if he was going to apologize for being incredible. People mostly had one of two reactions to finding out he was who he was, and in the long run this was by far the kinder. He glanced to where Fifi was wagging her tail at him and rolled his eyes.

"Is that your dog?" Steve said, apropos nothing at all.

Was he flirting? Tony checked, but if Steve was flirting, it was definitely with the dog because all of his focus was on her. He was smiling at Fifi with a soft besotted look. Tony inwardly groaned. A _dog person_. Well, what did he expect, meeting him in a park with a dog of his own? Fifi sensed a person she could get to do her bidding and leaped to her feet, wagging her tail at Steve, and shaking the pink leash in Tony's hand. Nervous around strangers, hah!

"May I pet her?" Steve asked, with far more restraint than before when he'd been touching Tony, which just went to show. 

"Knock yourself out." He waved a dismissive hand, setting it on his hip, and watched Steve indulge himself. 

Steve crouched and rubbed her forehead, patted her back, stroking the fur that looked to be silky and fine from where Tony was keeping his distance. "What's her name?"

"Fifi. She's my PA's dog, actually," he answered, and mentally wondered what he was doing telling the truth. Appearing like a dog owner was clearly the name of the game here. But it seemed wrong to pretend with Steve, who was without a doubt having the best time. Fifi was milking it for all she was worth, naturally, licking Steve's hands and making him laugh in a way that was a revelation. She'd never so much as attempted that with Tony, perhaps sensing his anxiety. "You're really good with her."

Steve smiled up at him. Tony glanced away, eyes landing on Steve's dog, sitting patiently on the grass nearby. Admittedly, at least it was well trained. Not enough for Tony to even consider approaching it, of course.

"Buster likes people," Steve advised from his side, the nudge clear in his voice.

"You named your dog Buster?" Tony asked while looking at the dog, intending to segue into a gentle tease on how that was old fashioned, which never made it past his lips. The name must have set off some sort of a command in the dog's brain because it jumped up and then it leaped straight for Tony.

He had his arms out in front of him to protect himself before he even knew what was happening. A second later, the logical part of his brain intruded, recognized Buster as a puppy who wanted to be petted, not a monster out to chew on his throat. Already at Tony's flinch back, Buster had let out a whine and plonked back down onto the grass, a foot away, staring askance at Tony with a slow wag of his tail on the ground. Tony lowered his hands, but by then it was already too late, and Steve had seen his whole ridiculous, comical overreaction. He was looking at Tony now with an expression of bewildered upset. 

It was the tinge of disappointment that did it.

Tony swallowed down his fear. Composing himself through his madly racing heart, Tony stretched out a hand towards Buster. He wasn't a coward, and the puppy was evidently well-natured. Buster didn't move, just looked at Tony with deep dark eyes that seemed to stare into his soul. He'd already forgiven Tony for his involuntary recoil of course, because dogs didn't hold grudges. A gentle giant. If Tony's hand shook when he bent down to pat the dog lightly on the forehead then that was nobody's business other than his own. The black fur felt soft against his skin.

"Good boy," Tony murmured and withdrew, curling his fingers against his chest as if to calm the rapid beat of his heart.

"Buster's training as a therapy dog," Steve put in, and then, unnecessarily: "He is really gentle."

"I see that," Tony answered looking back at the owner who was studying him with a tilt of his head.

"All those tabloids said—" Steve seemed to realize he was admitting to paying attention to the tabloids and fell silent, wringing Buster's leash between his hands in a sheepish manner.

"That I hate dogs?" Tony's lips fell in a bitter twist. "Yeah, not so much."

"Then—. Oh. Oh!" 

Tony had to turn away from the realization quickly dawning on Steve's face.

"You're scared of them," Steve said with quiet certainty, and added in that baffled tone everyone always used when they heard about Tony's little hangup: "But why?"

"Some sort of latent trauma, probably," Tony waved a dismissive hand, tipping the sunglasses off his head down to his nose. "Exposure therapy will probably clear that all up. Listen, I have to get going—"

He turned, but Steve's large hand landed on his elbow, holding him back from leaving.

"Wait! Wait, Mr. Stark, we got off on the wrong foot." 

"Tony," Tony put in quietly. He turned to glance into Steve's unfairly gorgeous eyes, and had to stop trying to leave, hackles slowly lowering. He really was a sucker for pretty blues, and my, Steve's just beamed sincerity straight into Tony's heart.

"Tony." Nodding, Steve held his eyes and said in earnest, "I shouldn't have assumed. And, um. Let me make it up to you?"

"Huh?" Tony said, eloquently. He'd already pegged Steve's reaction where it belonged, and it had not been in the getting-into-your-pants bucket. He had no idea what Steve wanted with him now.

"Let me buy you coffee," Steve said. They both glanced down at the dogs that were watching the two of them with the look that faintly reminded Tony of parents watching precocious children. "We could find a place to sit outside. It's a gorgeous day." Steve looked around and actually breathed in a lungful, as if savouring it. 

Tony shivered, although there was no wind. He looked down at Fifi, who was certainly made for fresh air and _outside_ , rather than being locked up in his lab. Her dark eyes switched between Tony and Steve and seemed to say: _friend? Friend!_

Tony rubbed his temple.

Steve added calmly, even as his hands clenched Buster's leash, "I swear, we don't bite." When Tony eyed him with skepticism, Steve had the gal to press his lips together, clearly trying to keep amusement off his face. Everything in Tony clamored to see that tiny quirk of lips become a full-blown smile. It would be beautiful. 

Fifi and Buster decided to interrupt the moment that was clearly happening by yanking on their leashes with enough force that Tony and Steve had no choice but to fall in line. They walked the path together.

And if they threw glances at each other along the way, and Tony asked if Steve liked art, because he had paint smudges on his shirt, and Tony asked if Steve liked comics because the journals he'd carried had distinctive covers, and Tony only knew because he'd read his fair share, and if Tony kept talking and Steve didn't look to mind one bit, and even maybe enjoyed it, well. Tony knew a good thing when it tried to sweep him off his feet.

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> I always appreciate your comments and kudos. Thank you for reading!  
> [Tumblr post.](https://sheronwrites.tumblr.com/post/189343193234/must-love-dogs-relationships-steve-rogerstony)


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